


The Shaming of Yuri Plisetsky, International Figure Skater and Cat Enthusiast

by blackmountainbones



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Eros Mode Katsuki Yuuri, M/M, One-sided Yuriyuu, Yuri and Otabek are bros in every universe, Yurio's Big Gay Awakening, gratuitous use of tumblr, i kinkshamed yurio in the last fic i wrote and i'm doing it again, one-sided jjbek - Freeform, this is just one big fandom wank jizzing all over itself, this was supposed to be Crack but then it grew Feelings, unrequited crushes, you can't stop me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:24:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10100708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackmountainbones/pseuds/blackmountainbones
Summary: After Yuuri moves to St Petersburg to stay close to Viktor, Yurio's awkward teenage crush intensifies. He deals with his feelings the way any sane sixteen-year-old would: by running a secret Yuuri Katsuki Appreciation Blog on Tumblr and indulging his fantasies with fanfiction. What could possibly go wrong?IN WHICH Yuuri is too Eros for his own good, Yuri and Otabek bond over their unrequited crushes on Skype, and a certain teenage Russian discovers why you always close out of your browser after writing sin.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Phayte](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/gifts).



> I'm back!.... I was on a month-long business trip that required travelling. I know y'all want more Adonis but all I wanna write is crack. I wrote it for the lovely [Phayte](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Phayte/pseuds/Phayte), whose story [Touch](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9410246) I edited. We're friends now.
> 
> The working title of this was "Phayte's Shame". Based on [this post](http://the-stoned-ranger.tumblr.com/post/157884119209/fml). (tl:dr: Phayte's kid discovers her porn blog on Tumblr and starts a troll account for kinkshaming purposes.)
> 
> Thanks as always to [ModernArt2012](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernArt2012/pseuds/ModernArt2012), [Nahiara](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Elle_Nahiara/pseuds/Elle_Nahiara), and [Kinoglowworm](http://archiveofourown.org/users/KinoGlowWorm/pseuds/KinoGlowWorm) for looking this over! Without you, I'd be only half as awful as I am now.

“Enough!” Yakov’s impatient shout rang out over the ice where Yuri Plisetsky was sprawled, having fallen flat on his ass after his sixth consecutive failed attempt at a quad flip. He peeled himself off of the ice with a grimace and skated over to where his coach was glaring on the sidelines. “You are done for the day.”

“But Coach, I have another hour--”

“Did you hear me, Yuri? You are _done_ for the day.” Yakov crossed his arms in warning. “You can come back tomorrow, and _tomorrow_ you will not disappoint me the way you did today.” He tapped his foot, which thudded ominously in the arena.

Yuri lowered his eyes and stared at his skates, uncharacteristically subdued.

Yakov huffed. “What has gotten into you lately? You’ve been flubbing your jumps and getting sloppy in your footwork since the spring.”

Yuri tensed, a reaction that did not go unnoticed by his coach. Yakov’s next words were softer. “This isn’t like you, Yuri. Is something going on in your life that I should know about?”

Finally, Yuri’s impassive expression broke into a sneer. “Nothing’s going on in my life, _starikaska_. Nothing ever happens to me outside of this stupid rink and you know it!”

Yakov’s eyes flashed with something like concern. Despite his penchant for yelling, his next words were quiet and deliberate. “Go take a shower and get the hell out of my rink. I expect more from you tomorrow.”

With a flourish that was perhaps a bit more dramatic than necessary, Yuri turned and skated off towards the locker rooms, leaving Yakov to shake his head in silent worry for the young skater. For the life of him, Yakov could not figure out why Yuri’s skating had become so sloppy so shortly after such a spectacular senior debut.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yakov caught the dark-haired blur of the rink’s newest member, Yuuri Katsuki, Viktor’s fiance. Yuuri was cooling down with an improvised step sequence executed at an excruciatingly slow pace, and although he had just completed a three-hour session on the ice, he showed no sign of exhaustion as each turn and spin was tightly controlled.

Viktor’s Yuuri never failed to impress with his presentation; Viktor had been right many months ago when he’d said that his Yuuri made music with his body. The Japanese man’s step sequences were certainly some of the best in modern skating, if not the best. Yakov’s eyes narrowed as he watched the young man dance across the ice, considering.

 

 

Yuri was thankful that the shower room was empty. He closed his eyes and leaned back into the steam, grateful for the way that the hot water soothed his aching muscles. This whole day had been shit. Actually, if he were being honest, his whole life was pretty much shit lately, ever since Viktor had dragged his stupid fiance halfway across the world to train with him at shitty Yakov’s shitty rink in shitty St Petersburg--

A soft voice interrupted his thoughts. “Hey Yuri, do you want to join me for lunch?”

 _Fuck_. Of _course_ Katsudon would be trying to talk to him in the shower. Yuri made the mistake of opening his eyes only to catch an eyeful of naked Katsuki. Unfortunately, the steam did nothing to hide his thickly muscled form. No amount of steam could hide those thick thighs....

Yuri swallowed and turned to face the wall so the other Yuuri couldn’t see just how much Yuri was appreciating the view. He cleared his throat with an ugly-sounding cough, but when he spoke, his voice was still slightly rough around the edges. “What makes you think I’d be willing to be seen in public with a piggy like _you?_ ”

The other Yuuri laughed, a soft tinkling sound that hit Yuri like a punch in the throat. “Well, first of all, I’m buying...” With a confident cock of his head reminiscent of his final pose from last year’s Eros, Yuuri turned to face the younger skater. “Secondly, there’s a new ramen shop not far from here...”

“Buy me a sake and you have a deal.”

Yuuri grinned so widely that something in Yuri’s stomach seized. “Oh Yurio, you’re so _naughty_ ,” he said, positively delighted. Yuri knew he’d get his sake. “You won’t regret it! Viktor and I went last week, and it’s not quite like back home but it’s the closest thing you’ll find in Russia...”

Yuri groaned at the mention of Viktor. Couldn’t that stupid Katsudon go for more than five minutes without talking about his stupid fiancé? “Shut up. I said I would go, OK? You don’t have to convince me anymore.”

However, Yuuri kept talking. He didn’t even have the decency to flinch at the vitriol in Yuri’s voice. “They make an excellent tonkatsu ramen...”

In response, Yuri turned the shower dial to cold. He stood under the freezing spray for a few moments before turning and heading to the locker room, knowing that the little piggy would follow him soon enough.

 

 

The restaurant was small and intimate, with a long bar taking up most of it. Somehow, Katsudon had managed to snag them one of the few private tables, which was tucked into a quiet corner of the small space, despite the bustling happy-hour crowd and the long line of diners who had been waiting before them. Yuri suspected it had something to do with the way Yuuri had been flirting with the hostess, who had blushed and stammered and fallen all over herself to make sure they were comfortable.

Sure, Yuri had rolled his eyes when he’d seen the way that Katsudon had smiled and teased, but still he’d had to choke back several sarcastic comments during the exchange. God, sometimes he _hated_ Viktor for having gotten Yuuri in touch with his Eros--but then again, sometimes he was grateful for it, even if he’d never, _ever_ say so out loud....

“Yurio?” The other Yuuri said his name with a note of concern in his voice.

“Huh?” He didn’t look up from the menu at which he’d been staring blankly for the last few minutes.

“Do you need a few more minutes?”

Yuri looked up from his menu to see the waiter tapping his foot anxiously. Shit. Somehow he hadn’t managed to read a single word of the menu. What had Katsuki recommended again...? “Uh, I’ll have the tonkatsu ramen...”

“Excellent choice!” Yuuri crowed. “You’ll love it.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, but was silent as he listened to Katsuki ramble on about the authenticity of the restaurant and a critique of every dish he’d eaten here. Yuuri certainly was a little piggy, he thought affectionately, vaguely amused at the way the man’s cheeks flushed in obvious pleasure as he reminisced about the oxtail and brisket ramen he’d had the last time. Honestly, Yuri was only half-listening, captivated by Yuuri’s enthusiasm and the melodious lilt of his voice...

He was nudged out of his reverie by the waiter, who had returned with the sake Katsuki had ordered for the two of them. Yuuri paused in his commentary long enough to pour them each a generous shot. “Kanpai, Yurio!”

“Kanpai,” Yuri muttered, his own level of enthusiasm several steps below Yuuri’s own. Yuuri didn’t appear to notice; he continued chattering on, shifting the topic to the upcoming season.

“You speak to Otabek often, don’t you?” Katsuki asked, refilling his cup and sipping the drink this time around. He doesn’t wait for Yuri to answer before continuing. “Do you know what he has planned for his programs?”

“Why would I tell you that, piggy?”

“What, you’re holding out on me because you’re afraid you can’t beat me without an unfair advantage?”

“What? No way!” Yuri almost choked on his sake, he’s so flustered.

Yuuri didn't bother to respond, just hid his softly chuckling mouth behind his hand, and Yuri could only glare in his own defense. Fortunately, the waiter brought their food just a moment later, and the conversation resumed between slurps of ramen.

Damn, the food was just as good as Yuuri had said, rich and warm and filling. Between the small table, the dimly-lit interior of the restaurant, and the easy way the conversation flows between the two of them, Yuri could almost believe--

Of course, that was the moment that Katsuki’s phone rang. The opening notes of “Stay Close to Me” interrupted their discussion of what to expect from JJ Leroy this season, which meant that only one person could be calling--a certain silver haired Russian who was currently attending a weeklong coaching seminar in Toronto.

“Hi, Viktor!” Yuuri cooed, holding the phone in front of his face and waving. “You caught me just as I was finishing lunch.”

“Yuuri! You’re eating ramen without me!”

Yuri didn’t have to look at the screen to know that Viktor was pouting. Goddamn it, why did the man have to be so fucking _extra_ all the damn time?

“Don’t worry Vitya, I’m not lonely. Yurio’s here to keep me company!” He turned the screen to face Yuri, who staunchly ignored Viktor, choosing instead to slurp his ramen loudly.

The two fiancé’s chatted for a few minutes as Yuri swigged his sake. When he was done with his own, he reached across the table for Yuuri’s, who was too distracted by his video call with Viktor to notice.

“I miss you, Yuuri... Wish you were here to keep me warm....”

There was no mistaking the naked desire in Viktor’s voice. Yuri swallowed hard to keep from choking.

“It’s only a few more days, Vitya. Besides,” Yuuri’s voice dipped into something deep and dulcet, something that sent shivers down Yuri’s spine despite the fact that it wasn’t meant for him, “if you’re good for me I’ll call you tonight. You can be good for me til then, right Viktor?”

Viktor’s response came out in a needy whine. “I can be good for you, my Yuuri--”

“I’m _right here_ ,” Yuri sputtered.

Yuuri rolled his eyes before checking his watch. “I’ll call you at four pm St. Petersburg time. That won’t be too late for you, will it?”

“Never for you, my Yuuri....” Viktor and Yuuri exchanged a sappy goodbye and Yuri was beginning to regret having drunk all the sake, mostly because he was definitely not drunk enough to deal with this shit.

Finally, Katsuki hung up his phone. He reached for his sake, surprised to find it drained dry. “Yurio,” he admonished, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement as he flagged the waiter down for a refill.

“Why do you two have to be so embarrassing in public even when you’re separated by an entire ocean?” Yuri grumbled.

Yuuri took a thoughtful sip of his sake. “One day you’ll be in love. You’ll understand.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Yuri scoffed, although he could feel his face and ears turning pink as he stared into his mostly-empty bowl of ramen. “I’ve been in love before and I _never_ \--”

Before he could finish the thought, Yuuri reached across the table for his hand. “Yuri, you’re in love!” he exclaimed. “Who’s the lucky boy?”

Startled at the warm weight of Yuuri’s hand over his, all Yuri could do was mutter, “Who says it’s a boy?”

Yuuri raised a questioning eyebrow. Yuri had been noticeably gay practically since birth, but his statement had been true, though only on a technicality--Yuri’s crush was no stupid awkward gangly _boy_ but rather a certain alluring and graceful _man_.

Yuri refused to say anything more. He knew he should extricate his fingers from Yuuri’s aggressive grasp. But he was weak, and let Yuuri continue to hold his hand until he withdrew it to summon the waiter to the table for more sake.

 

 

Of course Katsuki decided to drink too much at lunch that day. Of _course._ Yuuri draped himself octopus-like over Yuri’s shoulders as they walked back home from the restaurant. Gone was the effortless grace with which he glided on the ice, replaced by a stumbling, clumsy stride along the uneven sidewalk.

“How did you manage to get this drunk at three in the afternoon?” Yuri asked, not expecting an answer.

“Look, Yurio! Puppies!” Yuuri yanked his younger companion to a stop in front of a pet store, where two Yorkie puppies were fighting over a ball in the front window. “We should get Makkachin a puppy. She’d be a good mommy.”

Yuri rolled his eyes. “Makkachin’s too old to be a mother.”

Yuuri paid him no mind, his face close enough to the shop window that his breath left a mark of condensation, eyes wide as he watched the two tiny fluffy dogs chase each other in their cage. Yuri let him, endeared to Katsuki’s childlike playfulness, a part of the man’s personality that rarely emerged unless he’d been drinking. It was one of Yuri’s favorite parts of him, made all the more special because of how scarcely he got to experience it.

Eventually, Yuuri turned from the window with a wistful sigh. “I miss Makkachin. Let’s go home, Yurio.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Yuri said, not quite a grumble.

In response, Katsuki grabbed Yuri and put an arm around his shoulder. He flinched, but Yuuri just drew him closer, close enough to ruffle Yuri’s hair affectionately.

Drunk Yuuri was very affectionate indeed. “Get off me,” Yuri muttered under his breath, but he didn’t try to shrug Yuuri’s arm from where is rested on his shoulder the whole way back to Viktor’s apartment. He couldn’t help the wave of disappointment that hit him when Yuuri removed his arm to unlock the front door of his building.

“Oi, Katsudon, aren’t you going to invite me upstairs for some Call of Duty?”

Yuuri pushed the bridge of his glasses up his nose. “Not today. I have to call Viktor and make sure he’s behaving himself...."

“Gross,” Yuri gagged, but he was unable to stop the twin surges of jealousy and arousal that the idea of _being good_ for Yuuri inspired in him.

He watched as Yuuri turned to step through the door, letting it slam behind him. Once he could no longer see Yuuri’s silhouette through the front door, Yuri turned towards home.

 

“...The whole thing felt just like a date, until that idiot Viktor called.” Yuri knew he was pouting, but he also knew that Otabek wouldn’t judge him for it. After all, he and Otabek spent at least half of their time on Skype talking about their respective crushes on Yuuri Katsuki and Jean Jacques Leroy.

“Yeah?” His friend was picking his cuticles as he listened to Yuri complain. _Typical Otabek._

“And that’s not even the worst part!” Yuri knew he was whining, but he didn’t care. “He drank too much sake at the restaurant and put his arm around me the whole way home! And then he wouldn’t even invite me upstairs, because he had to call Viktor to make sure he was being a ‘good boy’.” Yuri emphasized the last two words with air quotes.

Otabek raised an eyebrow. “Kinky.”

“I _know_ ,” Yuri whined into his hands.

Otabek stared at him through the computer screen. “You’re _into_ that kind of thing?” he asked, curious.

Yuri ran his hands through his hair nervously. “Yes? No? I don’t know.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I think I’d be into anything as long as it was _him,_ you know?” His cheeks flared red with shame.

Otabek was silent, considering. He cleared his throat before he spoke. “Yeah,” he said softly, his eyes downcast. “I know what you mean. Like, sometimes I think I would take just about anything JJ offered, even if it was just a one-night thing or some kind of sordid affair.”

“Yeah,” Yuri said. He knew exactly what Otabek meant.

The silence dragged on for a moment longer before Yuri spoke again. “So when was the last time you heard from JJ anyway?”

Otabek sat back in his chair and looked back up at the screen. “Yuri. I swear he’s going to kill me.”

“What did he do now?”

“He keeps sending me all these stupid shirtless pics from the gym on Snapchat, asking me what I think about his _gains_. I swear to God he knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“Isn’t he like, obsessed with your arms or something?”

Otabek groaned. “He wanted me to take a video of the lifts I do and send it to him...”

Yuri chuckled. “You should start doing more squats. Then maybe JJ would send you pictures of his ass.”

“That’s a great idea, Yuri!”

Yuri huffed and blew his bangs out of his eyes before he spoke. “I will never understand this weird competitive homoerotic gym bro thing you two have.”

“Dude. Me neither.” Otabek shook his head. “He even had the nerve to invite me to stay with him and his fianceé during Skate Canada....”

“Ugh,” Yuri commiserated. They chatted for a few more minutes before Otabek excused himself to go to sleep, then exchanged goodbyes, promising to call each other again in a couple of days.

Yuri closed the Skype app and pulled up his word processor. He stared at the blank page for just a moment before starting to type.

 

_“You can be good for me, right Yuratchka?” Yuuri asked._

_Of course, Yuri was unable to answer with the gag in his mouth._

_“I asked you a question, kitten. I expect you to answer me.” Yuuri grabbed the younger skater by the chin, tipping it up so that Yuri’s green eyes gazed directly into his brown ones._

_Yuri nodded slowly, once, twice, three times._

_“Good boy,” Yuuri growled, his voice hoarse with desire. Something about the way his words had gone rough around the edges made Yuri shiver where he knelt on the pillow that had been placed at Yuri’s feet, bound at the mouth and wrists._

_Yuuri stepped back and paused a moment to inspect his handiwork._

_“Sit here and wait for me kitten. Don’t move. I’ll know if you move.” He ran his hands through Yuri’s hair. The blonde strands slipped through his fingers like silk, and Yuri was thankful for the gag that muffled his moans when Yuuri scratched at his scalp._

_As he pet Yuri, Yuuri continued to talk in a low and soothing voice. “If you can be good, I’ll take out the gag and replace it with my cock. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Yuratchka? Milk for a kitten?”_

_Yuri rubbed his face against Yuuri’s thigh, nuzzling him softly in appreciation._

_With a wicked grin, Yuuri stepped back from his kitten. “So be good for me, baby. Remember, I’ll know if you’re not, and you won’t get any milk at all tonight....”_

 

 

Yuri pushed his chair back and reread what he’d written. Shit, this was _hot_. Yuri felt the familiar pressure between his legs, but first, he clicked over to a new tab in his browser and opened up Tumblr. With a racing pulse, he opened up his secret shameful sideblog--his Yuuri Katsuki appreciation blog--and posted a short excerpt as a teaser for his next fanfiction. He figured it could use a bit of editing before he posted it: if he were _this_ distracted by his dick he was certain to miss at least a few typos and dumb English grammar rules, anyway.

He scrolled for a while, liking some photos, reblogging others as he searched a few of his favorite tags: # _virgin killer katsuki_ and # _seduce me yuuri_ were always good for inspiration on nights like these.

His mouse hovered over a close up of Yuuri’s face during his performance of Eros at Worlds last season in Helsinki, the performance that had gotten him his first gold medal for the routine. Yuuri’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes half-lidded (Yuri had heard the term “bedroom eyes” before, but he’d never _really_ understood it until exactly this moment), his mouth twisted somewhere between a grimace and a gasp, the very tip of his tongue drawn between his teeth, pointed and pink. From there it was easy enough to remember Yuuri’s pudgy yet still pleasing body in the hot springs last year, and combine that with absolutely wanton expression on Yuuri’s face in the picture at the same time...

Yuri closed his eyes to picture it just a little more clearly, and let himself be swept towards the inevitable.

 

 

At seven thirty the next morning, Yakov said: “I have something different in mind for today’s practice.”

“Huh?” Yuri cocked his jaw in defiance. From the new angle, he could see the messy mop of untamed black hair and a blue-rimmed pair of glasses that could only mean one person peeking out from behind Yakov’s right shoulder.

Yakov motioned to Katsuki, who up until now had been standing silently at Yakov’s side. “You and Katsuki are going to workshop your step sequences. Together.”

“What?” Yuri asked. He could feel himself turning red; his cheeks burned despite the harshness of his words.

“You heard me,” Yakov said, slow and deliberate. “Katsuki and I were discussing some of the difficulties you’ve been having this season. If you want to podium this season, you _will_ improve your sloppy footwork.”

Yuri swallowed. “But--”

“Do you understand, Yuri?” Yakov interrupted. “You and Yuuri _will_ work together. Unless you wish to find a new coach and a new rink two months before competition season begins.” Yuri could hear the threat in Yakov’s words. He nodded.

“Good.” Yakov stepped off the ice, nodding to Katsuki, who removed his blade guards and skated up next to Yuri.

“It’s OK, Yurio,” Yuuri reassured, his hand a warm weight on Yuri’s shoulder anchoring him to the ice. “I’ll be nice to you. I promise.” He punctuated his words with a sly grin that made Yuri’s stomach seize. Katsuki’s playful words echoed the dialogue Yuri had written just last night. _You’ll be good for me, won’t you, Yuratchka? Good kitties get their milk...._

“I’m surprised you can even hold yourself up on the ice after all the sake you drank yesterday,” Yuri mumbled, staring at the ice beneath his skates. He didn’t trust himself to look Katsuki in the eye, not when yesterday’s fantasy was still so fresh in his imagination.

Katsuki ran his hand through his hair, pushing his bangs back. Yuri’s heart fluttered--nothing was sexier than Yuuri with his Eros hair and his glasses. The image flickered for just a moment before his hair flopped back over his forehead. “Ah. Well, sake to a Japanese man is like vodka to a Russian....” he said quietly as the hand on Yuri’s shoulder slid down to his waist. With a smirk, Yuuri pushed him with just enough force to propel Yuri towards the center of the rink.

“Oi! Watch it, piggy!” Yuri said, startled. He just barely managed to keep himself from falling onto the ice.

Yuuri chuckled as he skated up beside him. “Well, let’s begin.” He executed a complicated series of step, each infused with his trademark sensuality before turning to Yuri and saying _Your turn_ expectantly.

Fuck. Yuri had been too busy watching the way Yuuri’s body moved sinuously across the ice to pay attention to his footwork. “Uh. Do you think you could do that again?”

“You’ve got to pay better attention, Yurio,” Katsuki tutted. “I see what Yakov said about you being distracted lately.”

Yuri felt shame blooming in his chest. “Yakov said I was... distracted?” Fuck, he’d thought he’d been better at hiding that shit....

Yuuri nodded. “I’ll do it one more time, but if you can’t be bothered to concentrate, I’m not going to spend my valuable rink time working with a student who doesn’t--”

“I’ll pay attention, I swear I will!” Yuri exclaimed, heart beating anxiously behind his ribs.

Yuuri’s eyes narrowed as he looked Yuri up and down. “Don’t you take your eyes off me,” he warned, before skating out to the center of the rink and repeating the sequence.

This time, Yuri was careful to look only at Katsuki’s feet, lest he get swept up into another daydream. With a deep breath, Yuri mimicked his movements.

His concentration was broken when Yuuri skated up next to him. “Not bad, but you need to watch your edges....” Katsuki’s hands settled on Yuri’s hipbones. He pinched Yuri’s sides lightly as he continued, “Feel your balance come from your hips, and don't let your ankles roll in when you step on the outside front edge of your blades.” He rocked Yuri back and forth on the edges of his skates to let him feel the difference.

Yuri might have swallowed part of his own tongue. All the blood in his body seemed to be racing to the twin palms on his hips, which also happened to be dangerously close to another part of his anatomy. With a gentle push, he propelled himself away from Yuuri and his piggy hands to repeat the sequence, this time making sure to keep his ankle and the blade properly aligned as he shifted his weight between the right front inside and rear back outside edge of his skates.

If it took Yuri’s heart rate a whole hour to calm down afterwards, well, it was only because Yuuri had complimented him so profusely after he’d finally mastered the dance: _Good, Yuri! I knew you could do it._

 

 

Immediately after he got home from the rink, Yuri grabbed a sandwich and settled into his desk chair to finish editing the fic he’d written last night. He squinted at the screen, scrutinizing a particularly awkward fragment, which he deleted and then began to rewrite: _Yuri waited on his knees in the empty room, eyes closed. He didn’t know why he was closing his eyes--Yuuri hadn’t bothered to blindfold him, after all--but the darkness made the emptiness seem safer. All he could feel like this was the dull ache in his knees and ankles from supporting his weight like this in spite of the pillow, the pressure on his wrists from the silky rope, and his heartbeat pounding once in his chest and again in his cock and he waited for Yuuri to return and tell him his punishment was over._

_He wasn’t sure how long he waited for it--it could have been minutes, could have been an entire afternoon. But eventually, he heard Yuuri’s steps drawing down the hallway, getting closer and closer to the room where Yuri waited for him, who was already whimpering and wanting._

_The door creaked open, and Yuri could feel the floorboards shifting slightly with Yuuri’s steps as he drew closer. Just inches away from the pillow, the footsteps stopped._

_Yuuri was close enough that Yuri could feel his body heat hovering just in front of him. He did not dare to move, to lean toward Yuuri and rub his face against those thick strong thighs like an overly affectionate cat, at least not until Yuuri had given him the permission to do so._

_“Oh, kitten. Look at you, my kitty. How good you look for me like this.” Yuuri reached out to stroke him behind the ears, and then Yuri couldn’t help himself--he rubbed his chin and lower lip along the inside of Yuuri’s wrist, his tongue lapping Yuuri’s palm with short even strokes..._

Yuri leaned back in his desk chair and cracked his knuckles. Finally, he was done editing his latest story. It was different than anything else he’d ever written--much kinkier, his filthiest and most depraved yet, little more than 5,000 words describing all his favorite fantasies in explicit detail. He couldn’t tell whether he was more proud or ashamed of himself for writing something so sinful.

He quickly uploaded the story to his Tumblr, pausing in the tags field to think for a moment before tagging the post   **#yuuri katsuki/yuri plisetsky #yuriyuu #yuri x2 #dom/sub #kitten #petplay** , then leaned back into a stretch. Finally, the fucking thing was done. Now to wait for the kudos and comments to start coming in...

However, no sooner had Yuri updated his Tumblr than the doorbell rang.

Fuck. Today was Friday. He’d forgotten about the concert tonight.... A quick glance at his phone confirmed that it was seven-thirty, right about when Mila’d said that she and Georgi would be picking him up.  He reluctantly buzzed her up despite the fact that he was still wearing his rink clothes and day-old socks.

“Yuri, you asshole. We’re supposed to be at the venue at eight.”

He gathered his hair up into a sloppy ponytail with the scrunchie he was wearing on his wrist. “Give me ten minutes. I just need to change and brush my teeth.”

Mila rolled her eyes. “Fine. As long as I can use your printer to print the tickets while I wait.”

“You’re bitching at me for making you late but you haven’t even printed out the tickets yet?” _Typical Mila._

“What? My printer’s all out of ink. Besides, it only takes like a minute.”

“Whatever.” Yuri nodded his head toward the laptop on his desk. “You’ll have to attach the printer, but it shouldn’t take long. Holler if you’re too stupid to figure it out.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Mila grumbled, but Yuri ignored her, choosing to slam the bathroom door in response.

When he exited a few minutes later, wearing an outfit that consisted of tight pants and three types of animal print, Mila was staring into her phone suspiciously subdued.

“Oi, you got those tickets?”

“Mmm?” Mila looked up at him, startled. “Oh. Yeah.”

He rolled his eyes. “Aren’t we leaving now?”

Mila tapped the touch screen of her phone furiously for a moment before responding. “Sure.” She dragged herself up from the chair slowly.

“Weren’t you the one nagging me a few minutes ago? What’s gotten into you, _baba_?” he complained.

Mila just handed him his ticket. “Don’t worry about it.” She paused for a moment before smirking and adding “Kitten.”

“Huh?” Yuri asked, taken aback.

Mila didn’t bother to respond. “Let’s go. Georgi’s waiting in the car downstairs.”

Yuri followed her out of the apartment and down the stairs, suspecting nothing.

 

 

The first thing Yuri heard when he entered the rink Monday morning was a chorus of meows.

“Hey kitten, you’re looking tired. What’s wrong, you didn’t get your milk this morning?” Georgi teased.

“Fuck off and die,” Yuri growled. He got enough “kitten” shit from his Angels, now Georgi was starting in on it? Yuri had had way too little sleep last night to deal with this shit.

One of the older juniors, who had streak of blonde bleached into their black hair and a killer double axel, tossed him a carton of milk. “Here, kitty,” the kid said, and Yuri accepted the drink although he was annoyed at the nickname. Maybe he was little bit grateful for the calories: he’d stayed up way too late yet again on Sunday night, working on an angsty new story he’d tentatively titled “Still My Heart Beats So Slow”. He’d woken up too late to grab breakfast before practice, and the milk would definitely help him make it through practice without wanting to kill himself with his own knife shoes.

No sooner had Yuri cracked open the milk carton and taken a deep sip, the junior skater quipped, “That should keep you satisfied for a while, kitty-cat. There’s a lot of protein in it!”

Yuri’s eyes opened wide as he took a deep breath, and knew he was caught.

 

 

“Yuri? Do you have something you need to tell me?” Yuuri asked him after practice, eyes wide and waiting behind his glasses. The fluorescent light glinted off the corner of his glasses, and Yuri was thankful for the glare. At least it meant he wouldn’t have to look his crush directly in the eye as he confessed....

Yuri took a deep breath. It echoed off the tiled walls. “I may have written.... something.”

“...Written something?” Yuuri asked.

Every cell in his body was blushing, he was certain of it. Yuri closed his eyes and let the words out in a single breath. “Imighthavewrittensomeeroticfiction. About you and--and me.” He clutched his hands into fists, concentrating on the hard edges of his fingernails and the way they bit into his skin as he spoke. “And the others might have found out about it.”

The confession lingered between them in the empty locker room.

Finally Katsuki spoke. “I’m very flattered, but--”

Yuri laughed harshly, unable to help himself. Only Katsudon could ever manage to sound _gracious_ when rejecting someone.

“--Yuri, I--I _can’t.”_

Tears prickled Yuri’s eyelids. He blinked rapidly, trying to keep them from falling, but it was a lost cause.

“Is this about Viktor?” Yuri asked through his tears. His voice sounded whiny and snotty and he was immediately mortified for sounding like such a _child._

“It’s not only about Viktor,” Yuuri said softly. “Yurio, I’m eight years older than you.” he paused, choosing his next words with careful consideration. “You deserve to have someone who can understand you, someone who’s your equal and peer...”

“I’m not a _kid._  I’m almost seventeen asshole, I’ve been legal for nearly a year!” Shit. His voice sounded so high pitched right now, like some kid whose voice hadn’t even broken yet.

“Yuratchka,” Yuuri said patiently. Yuri flinched at the familiar nickname, which was sure to preface nothing good. “You’re a part my philia and of my agape. And my friend. But not my Eros.” Yuuri brushed Yuri’s blonde bangs out of his eyes and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before releasing him and stepping back. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t _apologize_ ,” Yuri said, his voice breaking as he tried to swallow back tears.

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri repeated.

Yuri turned from him. “Fuck.” It was the only thing he could say. His heart was racing, though he had no idea how a heart could continue to beat at all if it were shattered into a thousand pieces.

Yuuri sat and waited a few moments for Yuri to turn back to face him. “I understand if you need some space. But Yuri--” He put his arms around Yuri’s shoulders in a gentle hug. “I hope we can stay friends. Russia would be lonelier without you around.”

All Yuri could do was bury his face in Yuuri’s shoulder and let his tears stain the light blue shirt that the older man had worn to practice, letting Yuuri soothe him until his eyes were red and puffy and dry.

 

 

Once back at the apartment, Yuri ate an entire pint of salted caramel ice cream, Lilia’s strict dietary regimen be damned. Truthfully, he probably would have been better off with just plain caramel, considering that he kept crying into the carton, which only served to make it saltier. Luckily, Otabek didn’t judge him for crying while eating, though Yuri had no idea why not. He was definitely judging himself right now.

“I’m so _stupid,_ Beka,” Yuri moaned, his hands over his eyes as he told the whole sordid tale, scooping the last mouthful of ice cream into his mouth with his oversized spoon.

“There’s nothing stupid about your writing,” Otabek said. The worst thing was that he said it with a completely straight face and not a hint of sarcasm, like it was something he _meant._

“Oh my God, you read it too?” Yuri was blushing so hard his skin was starting to hurt. He was beginning to worry he was going to turn permanently pink, which was unfortunate as the color clashed horribly with his skating costumes for the upcoming season. He had to cover his eyes with his hands; there was no way he’d ever be able to look his best friend in the eye ever again in his entire life after this moment.

Otabek shrugged. “I liked it.”

Peeking out from between his fingers, Yuri had expected to see a mocking smile on Otabek’s face. But he was simply looking at Yuri, serious and silent as he awaited a response. “You don’t have to make fun of me like everyone else. You’re supposed to be my friend!”

“Yura. I _am_ your friend.” Otabek reminded him. “It was a good story.”

“Staaaaaahp.”

“I’m serious! If you ever retire from skating, you might want to consider a career as a writer.”

Yuri looked at his friend closely. Otabek looked like he was being serious.... “You mean that?”

His friend nodded. “I read them all, you know.”

“Nooooo....” Yuri’s skin was so hot he thought he might actually spontaneously combust.

“My favorite was ‘Dancing with the Man I Love’.”

Yuri gasped. “No, you didn’t...” That fic may or may not have been inspired by the dance-off and Katsuki’s drunken striptease at the Grand Prix banquet two years ago. It was by far Yuri’s most embarrassing, nothing but fluff interspersed with sweet sex and a _wedding_  complete with a first dance and a honeymoon scene that involved the creative use of both a buttplug and a stripper pole.

Otabek lifted the corner of his mouth in a soft-half smile. “Who knew an innocent little kitten like you could be so _dirty?”_ he teased gently.

“I am going to _die_ ,” Yuri moaned.

“Don’t apologize. It was hot as hell,” Otabek said. Yuri watched as his friend leaned forward to rest his head in his hands on the other side of the computer screen. “Sexier than some of the porn I’ve watched, anyway.”

“Beka!” Yuri was shocked. How could Otabek say something like that so casually?

Otabek hummed. “Yura, you’re too talented to be embarrassed about your work. Maybe if it had been terrible... But it was really good.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Otabek leaned back in his computer chair to put his feet on the desk. “Do you think you’d ever be willing to write one of these about me and JJ?”

“Eww, Otabek. I am _never_ going to write a single sentence about JJ’s dick.” He gagged. “Why would you ever ask me to do that? I thought we were friends.”

“Figured it was worth a try.” Otabek grinned and shrugged. “I told you, it was hotter than porn.”

Yuri smiled back at his friend for the first time all night. “You want to see something I’ve been working on?”

Otabek’s eyes lit up. “Read it to me?”

Yuri clicked over to his word processor, and began to read aloud....

**Author's Note:**

> as always you can find me on tumblr at [the-stoned-ranger](http://the-stoned-ranger.tumblr.com/)
> 
> help the muse get off! slap that kudos button and make the comments box your bitch.


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